


“He's on The Phone, While She's Tryin’ Not to Moan”

by Im_Batman (orphan_account)



Series: Stevie Doesn't Know [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Betrayal, Betraying Bucky, Cheating, Cheating Peggy, Depression, F/M, Homophobia, Implied Sexual Content, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, Kinda, Light Angst, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Phone Sex, Pining, Public Sex, Self-Hatred, Sex, Sexual Tension, Trusting, Trusting Steve, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 12:30:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3978112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Im_Batman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve still takes the serum and it works, everything is the same, except Bucky never falls off that train and Steve never crashes into the Arctic.<br/>America has won and the war is over.<br/>But Peggy, Steve, and Bucky are learning that "normal" is a concept they might never become familiar with again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	“He's on The Phone, While She's Tryin’ Not to Moan”

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OhCaptainMyCaptain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhCaptainMyCaptain/gifts).



> I know I know, some of you are wondering why the hell I'm starting another story. But I'm sorry!! I just get so many ideas and if I don't write em' down or post it, I feel like I'll go insane. That, and I'm an idiot who tends to start what I never finish. Sorry, what can you do? :/

 

❓❔❓❔❓❔

  
     The bed creaks under their weight, rocking in time to their frantic rhythm. A small plugin fan whirs away on the bedside table, blowing hot, stale air around the cramped room. Peggy gasps underneath Bucky, her ruby lipstick smeared, hair mussed, and nails digging into his shoulder blades. Sweat covers their bodies making everything slicker, every thrust easier. And the shitty cooling system does nothing to cool them so perspiration continues to pour from their pores. Brooklyn is suffering a blistering heat wave that feels like Hell on Earth. But in this instance, the heat, the sweat, their grinding bodies, makes it seem. . .dirtier, sexier.

  
     Somewhere off to the left, the telephone rings. Nearly drowning out the obscene noises with its shrill screams. Peggy scrambles to answer it but Bucky won't let go, still gripping her hips tightly and pushing into her. She's barely able to wrap her fingertips around the phone, answering with a breathless, “Hello.”

  
 Bucky hears Steve's low, tender voice on the other line and his hold around Peggy's waist tightens. She hisses quietly, writhing a bit in his embrace. He loosens up, not needing to be told with words, he already knows what it means. It's a warning, a reminder: Steve can't know. Because Bucky is his best friend and Peggy is his girl. Which means no bite marks, no scratches, no bruises, and no hickeys. No trace whatsoever that he's been here. That he's marked Steve's dame.

  
     But other than that, Peggy continues as if Bucky isn't fucking her while she's on the phone with her fella, lying to him.

  
“No, no Stevie, I'm fine! Just had to deal with some pigs who thought it'd be swell to try and cop a feel on me.”

  
Steve's voice continues to filter out of the speakers and into Bucky's ears, jolting memories of blue doe eyes, soft pink lips, pearly white grins, and neatly parted blonde hair. Hair that he loved oh so much to ruffle, despite Steve's complaints and defiant eyes and playful shoving.

  
     This alone makes Bucky's eyes fall shut in bliss at the thought of his beautiful best friend. His hips start to stutter into Peggy and he knows he's close, but she chews her lip, biting back a moan before shooting him an annoyed look because Steve's _right there on the **other fucking line**._ They're playing a dangerous game, they know. But it's the only way Bucky can stand it, being so close up, able to see every dip and curve of his features. Every mole or freckle or jutting collar bone visibly on display, right there in front of him, but never allowed to touch, to worship the body he so secretly yearns for.

  
“Really, I'm fine, just winded. Guess I kinda miss the war too. I don't quite know what to do with my self now that it's over.”

She laughs a little fondly, a little sadly. And he can relate, really because he feels the same. Suddenly he isn't running or sweating or knee deep in the muck. He's sleeping on a bed in an apartment. Not in an army tent with nothing to lay on but a few rolled up coats or thin quilts. Orders aren't being shouted, guns aren't being fired and the once noisy bustle of Brooklyn now seems like a low hum in the background to him.

  
     Peggy and Steve's soft chuckles and faint talking snaps Bucky out of it. He's still buried inside her and she's chatting away all sweet and quiet like. His dick is now limp, Peggy shifts uncomfortably and he slides out, sitting back on his haunches and pulling his suspenders back up his shoulders. The sight of Peggy with that spark in her eye, the kind that only Steve Rodgers can put there, (believe him, he knows.) and the sound of his best friend's easy laughter warms his chest but also puts an aching in his heart.

  
     He can't have Steve, beautiful, talented, kind, brave Steve. But he chokes his emotions back, physically paining him to do so. His chest hurts and it's a little hard to breathe, he can't seem to swallow the lump in his throat either. So he settles, like he always has.

  
     Bucky holds Peggy because he knows his best friend has held the very same body. He touches her skin because Steve also touched her skin. If Steve kissed her Bucky kisses her too. Because sometimes, if he's lucky, he can still _taste_ Steve on Peggy. Because this is as close as he can get to Steve and still remain his friend. But if he found out, Bucky would definitely _not_ be his friend anymore.

  
     And of course he feels guilty, how could he not, when he cares so deeply about Steve? Still loves him even after the serum, because he knows just where to look to find the scrawny kid from Brooklyn. In his loving blue eyes, in the same quirked pink lips, in the soft tufts of his hair and it's neat part. In his still slightly knobby shoulders and knees, at his hands, although his fingers aren't smooth and nimble anymore but rough and calloused.

  
     Finally, Peggy ends the call, grinning so hard, Bucky knows it hurts.

  
“Alright, bye Stevie. I'll come by later and we can go dancing, that sound good?”

  
He knows because Steve just has that effect on you. His voice, his mere presence, leaves you high and giddy. Her teeth shine bright against her dark red lips and she barely acknowledges him as she changes and reapplies makeup in the mirror. Envy, hurt, and longing engulf his insides, his hands shaking as he lights his cigarette with a match. He finishes in record time, stubbing his smoke out on the bedside table, not caring if it's rude or not. With that, he brushes his bangs from his eyes, the sweat and gel making his hair droop, and stands up, showing himself to the door.

  
     When Bucky reaches his room a few doors down from Steve, he keeps his guilty gaze glued to the brass number on his room. But at that exact moment, the blonde devil himself appears. (he's a fucking saint actually and Bucky regrets the thought immediately). Steve takes one look at him and laughter bubbles from his mouth, taking Bucky by surprise, but he's smiles adoringly nonetheless.

  
“God, you're such a sleaze.”

  
He reaches forward, rubbing his thumb on the corner of Bucky's mouth. He holds very still, not even breathing as Steve is doing this. He feels his face drain of color as Steve pulls his hand back and Peggy's lipstick stains his fingers.

  
     He just shakes his head in disbelief, but his eyes glow with kindness and love. Relief flows through Bucky's veins, grateful that Steve doesn't recognize the unique star-spangled red lipstick that Peggy often wears. But he knows he must look wrecked, even without the lipstick as a dead giveaway. His clothes are wrinkled and disheveled, sweat still makes his shirt stick to his chest and his belt buckle isn't fastened, just hangs there in his belt loops.

  
     Bucky forces out a laugh, “Yeah, whatever. Get off my back.”

  
     He takes his knuckles and uses them to tousle Steve's hair, careful not to let his hand linger. He makes a distressed sound at the back of his throat, jabbing Bucky in the ribs. Usually he'd retaliate and playfully clip him on the jaw or pull him into a headlock. But today, he just teeters back a bit. Steve's grin falters slightly and concern takes over his features.

  
     “You alright Buck? Or did that dame tire you out?”

  
Bucky smiles weakly, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep from doing something stupid. Like touching Steve or _kissing_ Steve.

  
“Nah, I'm fine. Don't worry about me Stevie. Just thought I'd wash up and kick back for the evening.”

  
He's obviously not convinced but doesn't pry, and Bucky's thankful for that.

  
“Oh. Well I'll see you later then. I gotta date with Peggy tonight.”

  
He fumbles to fix his hair, wearing a face splitting grin.

  
     Bucky turns to his door again, not able to bear the sight of Steve, happy and excited to go out, except it won't be with him. He looks over his shoulder to watch Steve walk away, slowly disappearing from view. For a moment, he allows himself to imagine going out with Steve, holding Steve, dancing and twirling with Steve. He imagines Steve smiling at him in wonder. With _love_ in his eyes.

  
He opens his door to an empty, dark room and enters. Like he does every day.

 

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think? Should I keep going and make it a series? Or nah? Let me know what's on your mind!!


End file.
